


Diary

by grapefruitghostie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Affection, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Apocanot, F/M, First Kiss, Gen, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omen), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Hugs, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Kinda, Love Confessions, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other, Religious Conflict, Requited Unrequited Love, Slice of Life, So Married, Softie Crowley (Good Omens), Songfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Very Secret Diary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 16:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20118016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapefruitghostie/pseuds/grapefruitghostie
Summary: You Left Your Diary At My House And I Read Those Pages, You Really Love Me, Baby.Or; the night of the Apocanot, Aziraphale spends the night at Crowley's. When he later returns home to the flat that Adam restored, Crowley finds a black book poking out from under his bed. Of course, he can't help but to see what's inside, can he?Honestly





	Diary

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Wait A Minute! by WILLOW please go listen to it I promise you won't regret it

"Oh, Lord, this is stupid," Aziraphale reasoned with himself, "but reading always helps, so why shouldn't writing? Oh, for Heaven's sake, I'm acting like a schoolgirl!"

The angel looked down at the small black book as if he were afraid of it. It felt all too personal, honestly. Now, of course, Aziraphale had written plenty of things before - letters, stories, memos - never once in a journal. And, yet, here he was: staring at the book on his desk anxiously. 

He sat down and then (in a gust of bravery) he opened the book, reached for the pen, and wrote the date. September fourth, nineteen seventy-two. Aziraphale looked at the date for some time, unsure of where to start 

_"Thirty-one years, three months and twelve days ago. That's when I fell in love. I mean honestly, really in love with Crowley. I'd always felt something settling warm inside of my soul when he was around, but never as much as I did on the day that I saw him walking into that church. He knew he'd be hurt because of the consecrated ground, but had he not come for me, I know for certain that I would have been discorporated that night. I could never thank him enough for saving my sorry ass all the times that he has. I just hope that one day I can buck up and tell him how much he means to me_ _. _

_-A.Z. Fell"_

The entry was mostly true. Aziraphale started falling in love with the demon when they went to see Hamlet at The Globe. He fell harder during the French revolution when, yet again, he was saved in the nick of time by Crowley. It wasn't until the forties when he fell completely head over heels.

And then, in the sixties, he saw the look on the demons face that struck something deep in his very soul. Gratitude, maybe? Love? Probably not. 

Aziraphale didn't write again for ten more years. He kept the journal hidden away in the inside pocket of a jacket he always wore to ensure that no one would find it. It only contained a dozen or so entries, but it would still be a complete nightmare if anyone found him out. 

Just the thought of it made Aziraphale cringe nervously. 

_"February twenty-second, nineteen eighty-eight_

_More than anything, I fear for Gabriel finding out. For some reason he's made it his mission to make me miserable, and I'm certain he'd have a right jolly time with this._

_-A.Z. Fell" _

_"August thirtieth, nineteen ninety _

_Have I fallen more than just in love? What will happen to me if I fall from grace? I worry that being in love with Crowley is not good for me and, honestly, I feel quite guilty because of it. Being with a Crowley would certainly make me fall, but lately I've found that I'd rather spend my eternity with him than with the angels in heaven._

_-A.Z. Fell"_

_"July seventh, two-thousand and eight_

_I just got off the phone with Crowley. He's to deliver the antichrist tonight to a the wife of an American diplomat. I'm unsure why this particular family was chosen, but I suppose that's not what's important now, is it? We have eleven years until the great war is upon us. I don't care which side wins._

_-A.Z. Fell"_

_"June sixteenth, two-thousand and eleven_

_Adam is five years old now. Crowley and I have devised a plan to each spend time with the child as much as we can. I will try to influence him to be good - Crowley will try to do the opposite. If it works, we will cancel each other out and Adam will be mostly human at his core. _

_I think that Crowley is rather cute in his little nanny costume. God, that sounds stupid, but i love the way he curls his hair and paints his lips. I so desperately want to kiss the lipstick off of him." _

_-A.Z. Fell"_

That was the last entry, as things got a bit sticky after that. Wrong child, world ending, and whatnot. The day of the apocalypse-that-didn't-happen was enough to leave Aziraphale with a splitting headache as he sat with Crowley on the bench in Tadfield. He nearly got in the bus to go home when the demon reminded him that he had no home. Crowley's voice was so sad and guilty, as if he knew exactly how crushing that news was to the angel. 

"You can stay at my place," Crowley offered, "if you like." 

Aziraphale's heart swelled and he felt tears coming to his eyes as he agreed. "Thank you." 

Crowley nodded and stood up as the bus arrived. Aziraphale followed him closely and sat beside him on the seat as they waited to be back in London. When they arrived at Crowley's flat, he felt comfortable and at home (as he always did there). 

"You can take the bed, Angel, I'll sleep on the couch," he offered but Aziraphale shook his head. 

"Oh, no I can't do that. Crowley, it's your home." 

"Yes, and it's yours now as well." 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes but deep down he was touched. "Really, I'll sleep on the couch." 

"No." 

"Either I'm sleeping on the couch or we're sharing the bed," he reasoned, assuming, Crowley would just give in then and let him take the couch. 

"Alright then. Sharing the bed, it is." 

Aziraphale nearly choked on the air he was breathing as Crowley strode down the hall into the bedroom. Well, he thought, there goes getting any sleep tonight. Once he gathered himself, Aziraphale followed the demon into his bedroom where he was already under the soft, grey comforter of the king sized bed. Aziraphale snapped his fingers, changing into a pair of baby blue pajamas and he watched as his other clothes fell beside the bed. 

"Goodnight, angel." Crowley said sleepily from the other side of the bed and Aziraphale's heart melted completely. 

"Oh, um, yes! Goodnight, Crowley." 

The demon hummed in response but was asleep a few minutes later. Honestly, Aziraphale had never been more grateful for not needing sleep. After about an hour of laying there with his heart beating out of his chest, Aziraphale dug around in his jacket for the book, going out to the living room to find a pen. 

_"July ninth, two-thousand and nineteen_

_Oh, God, it's nearly half two in the morning. I feel insane for being up to write this, but I can't even think about sleeping until I get it out of my system. Crowley's pillows are silky (now I know how he gets his hair to look so nice every day). His blankets are warm and his sheets smell so much like him that it's intoxicating. _

_He looks so peaceful asleep and h_ _e snores just a bit. Very softly - very cute. I felt a bit odd just watching him sleep, but at the same time I've never felt more at peace. _ _At one point, about twenty minutes ago, he rolled over close to me and I could feel his breath on my arm. I've never felt such comfort and warmth in my entire life. I want nothing more than spend every night like this. It's truly ineffable, the way I adore Crowley. _

_-A.Z. Fell" _

The angel quickly returned the pen to it's place on the coffee table and flicked the lamp off before returning to the bedroom. He reached to put the book back in it's pocket when Crowley spoke. 

"You alright?" He asked, voice husky with sleep and Aziraphale jumped. He dropped the jacket back onto the pile of clothes, not noticing that the journal slid under the bed. 

"Ah, yes, I just went for some water," Aziraphale lied.

Crowley caught the way his voice changed when he lied, but decided not to push it right then. He snuggled closer to the middle of the bed, hoping that Aziraphale wouldn't notice. Though Aziraphale did notice, he said nothing and laid closer to Crowley than was probably safe. Oh well, the world was still turning.

In the morning, Crowley woke with his head buried in the angel's shoulder. He smiled contentedly and sat up, rubbing his eyes, and padding into the kitchen to brew some tea. Aziraphale woke a bit later, frowned when he saw that Crowley was gone and made his way to the kitchen. 

"Good morning," he yawned and Crowley smiled admiringly. 

"Morning sunshine," the demon hummed and offered him a hot cup of earl gray. 

"Why, thank you," Aziraphale said sweetly, "did I sleep in too late?" 

Crowley shook his head, "Nah, I've only been awake for maybe a half hour." 

Aziraphale nodded.

"So, I've been thinking," Crowley continued. 

"Oh, no," Aziraphale teased. 

Crowley rolled his eyes but chuckled. "Seriously, though, don't you think our respective sides will be waiting for a chance to come for us? I mean, I cant imagine them ignoring what happened yesterday." 

"Yes, I know," the angel sighed, "how do you propose we avoid it, though?"

"What if we switched bodies," he suggested and Aziraphale nearly choked on his tea. 

"You what? How- what'll - how will we do that?!" 

"I mean, I've read up on it, angel. Don't worry, I won't discorporate us."

Aziraphale thought for a moment, sipped his tea, and then nodded. "All right. How do we do it?" 

Within the hour they were switched. Aziraphale would be lying if he said that he didn't feel profoundly close to Crowley. Being inside another body was something dizzying. It was hard learning how to move Crowley's lithe body around the flat, but he got a great laugh at watching Crowley try to pilot his rounder body all the same. 

The plan was for "Aziraphale" (Crowley) to pop into to bookshop to check the results of Adam's fix-it. They would meet at the park as they would on any normal day. When the ineffable bureaucracy came for them, they would not die in their respective capital punishments.

It was foolproof. "Crowley" was sentenced to bathe in holy water, just as he had bathed Igur before. "Aziraphale" was sentenced to hellfire, as Gabriel felt he'd gotten a bit too close to the demon. (And, damn, if he only knew the half of it).

That evening, when they switched back, they boasted gleefully about what they'd just pulled off and how they'd probably be left alone for a little while. They went to dinner and Aziraphale felt like he could be bursting with love and adoration. He made a mental note to record the day in his journal that night. 

He felt unbelievably disheartened when they had to part for the night, since Aziraphale had his flat back. Or whatever. He was all too grumpy for someone who had a place to call home that hadn't been burned in a terrible fire. Or whatever. 

When he reached into his coat for the journal, however, Aziraphale was met with the horrifying discovery that it was missing. At the same moment, a few blocks over, Crowley was just unlocking his front door and stepping inside. He made no haste to kick his shoes off and toss his jacket and glasses on the chair. 

While Aziraphale frantically turned his flat upside down in search of his journal, Crowley poured himself a glass of red wine. He sauntered into his bedroom, smiling fondly at the sight of two crumpled pillows instead of one. Something caught his eye though, when he was reaching for pajamas; the light was hitting a shiny, black book, halfway hidden under the bed. 

The inscription on the title page read A.Z. Fell and something told Crowley to put it back but, honestly? He couldn't do that. So Crowley tossed it on the bed to change into pajamas, picked it back up and moved to the couch with his drink.

The first entry shook him. The angel had counted the days since he'd fallen in love, and Crowley wanted to cry with the tenderness of it all. He flipped through the pages, reading with as much wrapped attention as he could (the snake eyes sometimes made reading a terrible pain, but this was very important and he refused to miss a word no matter how long it took him). 

When Crowley was finished reading the most recent entry - from just last night - he set it down on the table and poured himself another, much taller, glass of wine. He had to really wrap his mind around the fact that the angel had been gushing about him to a diary since the seventies, in full honestly, but once he did. Oh, once he did. 

Crowley had been in love with Aziraphale since the sixteen hundreds. He remembered following the angel to every performance at The Globe and on every hunt for something to eat down the dirty London streets and every hopeful smile Aziraphale gave him just melted his heart. 

But to know that Aziraphale felt the same? Maybe not for quite as long as he had, but still, the point was that they had wasted so much time tiptoeing around each other and their own feelings and - 

A knock at his door stopped Crowley dead in his thoughts. He took another sip of his drink before standing and unlocking the door. It was Aziraphale, in the flesh, looking as panicked as ever. 

"Crowley, um, hi, I'm quite sorry to barge in so late, er... I think I've left a book here! I- oh! Oh, dear," Aziraphale rambled on for a moment but stopped short when he saw the journal on the table. 

"Oh," Crowley chuckled nervously, "you certainly did." 

"Did you-?" 

There was a beat of silence when Crowley looked to his feet like a child who'd been caught misbehaving. 

"Yeah.."

"Fuck," Aziraphale swore and Crowley's eyes snapped up at him, "I'm sorry, I know its weird now, probably, it has to be weird for you. I'm sorry, I'll go." 

He reached for the book but Crowley grabbed his arm gently, "please, don't go." 

Aziraphale said nothing but gaped at his best friend in confusion. 

"Aziraphale I wish you'd told me," he began, "or maybe I could have told you. I mean, for someone's sake, I have loved you for more than four hundred years." 

Aziraphale was silent, watching Crowley's golden eyes for any sign that this was some awful joke but there was none. Crowley was deadly serious; he had to sit down. 

Crowley sat on the couch beside him, desperately wanting to hold his hand but he was too afraid of scaring the angel away. "How do you think you ever left Paris with your head? Hmm, why do you think anyone ever went to see Hamlet? It's not even a good play! Zira, it's because you're my best friend and I'm in love with you. Finding this journal means everything to me - you have no idea."

Aziraphale watched the demons eyes as he spoke so sincerely and gently and before he could form words he was gripping Crowley's face and kissing him hard. The demon's eyes widened in genuine surprise, but he soon wrapped his arms around Aziraphale's middle and kissed him back happily. 

They seemed to be connected for ages, letting all of the love from that missing time pour out into the open. When they finally parted, Aziraphale was on his back on the couch with Crowley hovered above him. They smiled, completely love-drunk and stupid and then out of nowhere Aziraphale laughed. He laughed loud enough to wake the entire floor before realizing the volume and covering his hand with his mouth. 

"What the hell is so funny," Crowley giggled, watching him shamelessly. 

"I just can't believe how blind we've both been for so many years. I mean, good Lord, we see each other every single day yet neither of us thought to maybe bring it up." 

Crowley laughed at that, climbing off of the angel and taking a sip of his wine. He conjured up a second glass and poured some for Aziraphale, why thanked him sweetly. 

"Zira?" Crowley asked after a few minutes of comfortable quiet.

"Yeah?"

"Would you - um, would you mind staying here tonight. I just don't wanna go in there by myself." 

Aziraphale smiled and kissed the demon cutely on the cheek, "of course, my dearest, I'd love nothing more." 

"Not even me?" Crowley teased, nudging him with his shoulder. 

"Well, I do love you more," he rolled his blue eyes and Crowley kissed him quickly before finishing his drink and returning to the bedroom. 

By the time Aziraphale joined him, Crowley was already in the middle of the bed with a warm smile gracing his sharp features. He saw now something he hadn't before - when Crowley felt very comfortable and tired, there were black, almost iridescent scales that crept down the backs of his hands and neck as well as his shoulders. Aziraphale snapped into his yellow pajamas and crawled under the blankets, admiring the scaly skin on the demons hands and arms. 

"You're so beautiful," he hummed, "these scales are gorgeous, dear, I mean that." 

"You're not sssso bad yourself," Crowley hissed sleepily and Aziraphale giggled. 

"Go to sleep, darling, we'll talk in the morning." 

"Sweet dreamssss, Angel. I love you." 

Aziraphale's face flushed and he consequently buried it in Crowley's copper locks, "I love you too, Crowley. Good night." 


End file.
